


Can you love a man until he's man again?

by rubyrider



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Oral Sex, birdman is sexy, listen, this is my first fic and i am just making a placeholder so i can write this when i'm ready
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-17
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:07:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25325122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyrider/pseuds/rubyrider
Summary: When you see your doctor smile, the first genuine smile since you had been parted, a feather had shed from his wings. You thought nothing of it. The second time, you scold him for plucking his feathers out. He insists he isn't.What else could be causing him to lose them?--And why are they not growing back?(First chapter will be short. The rest will not be.)
Relationships: Apprentice/Julian Devorak, Julian Devorak/Reader, Julian Devorak/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	1. The Hanged Raven

**Author's Note:**

> okay so this is legit my first fic. you ever go "man i want to read x plot" and no one's written it (maybe they have i didn't look that hard) so you go "well i will simply have to write it myself!" and that is what i am doing.
> 
> it 100% will get really explicit but this is just kinda the exposition

You are not sure how long you have been here since you chose to stay.

Days? You could've sworn the tallymarks on the wall were days. Maybe they were weeks. Somehow, your sight can never focus when you look at them, and you blame it on the perpetual salty bitters (your hand hadn't help a mug this whole time). Julian's hands had never been empty-- in one, a glass, in the other, your hand. He doesn't acknowledge that you're holding it, because that would mean acknowledging the fact that you don't hate him. You don't hate his form, his choices, or him. 

Every now and then, on the rare occurrence you do let go, you trace your (human) fingertips up his (feathered) arms, across his shoulder, up to his jaw. Even in this form you can see the blush that spreads across his face. 

"Don't." You can't tell if he's angry.

"...I'm sorry," you whisper, remorseful, removing your light touch, and now he feels guilty.

"I just meant that you don't have to." He throws a weak smile in your direction, as if to say, I'm a monster and you don't have to pretend I'm not. 

"And what if I want to?"

You resume your tracing of his features, no intention beyond feeling him underneath your hand. Julian doesn't discourage your behavior anymore, and as he looks wistfully at you resting your head on his shoulder; he can't believe you're real. He tries to persuade his brain: she's here, I can see her, and I can feel her.

That's what distinguished you from the other yous: the phantom yous, that just when he believed it was you, they vanished. When he would reach out to them, his hands-- no, talons --would pass right through them. But not you, the you with him. For just a moment, he allows himself to close his eyes, leaning into the touch, not going unnoticed by you.

"Julian, I love you."

"I love you too." 

You don't see it happen, nor does the doctor feel it, but a feather falls from the tip of his wing. Definitely, probably, maybe unrelated to what you two had just expressed.


	2. Say No to This

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hiiiii i hope y'all like monsters lol

You don’t sleep here, and you’re not sure you need to. When you try to recall how you’ve passed the time, you can’t quite seem to figure it out. Everything is blurry: the past, the present, even moreso the future.  
…the past.

You had a past. Asra… his name was Asra, wasn’t it? He’s out there. And Portia…. You can only hope she’s happy with Nadia somewhere. Happy and safe. (They are wishing the same for you). 

“Are you okay over there?” Julian asks, snapping you from your pondering.

“Of course,” you say with a smile. _He’s_ worried about _you?_ He’s the one who’s been digging his talons into his skin when he sobers up and remembers too much. He’s the one who plucks the feathers from his face when he thinks you‘re not looking. “What about you? That’s more drinks than you’ve had in the last week.”  
“You keep count?” He asks, lowering a tankard from his face. He makes eye contact with you, his eyes lidded as he looks down at you from across the table. His hands rest on either side of his large mug, waiting for a response from you. How could you dare to do something like that? Like caring about him?  
You get up wordlessly at first, and he slides down the booth, giving you more room. You hadn’t been this close to him in a long time.  
“You suggested it, when I first got here. You said that you always lost count… and that maybe I could.”  
“I also thought that you were an illusion when I said that.”

You look sad; you know he can see it. Sometimes, he still thinks you are one. When he awakes from whatever sleep he can get, he pushes you away, expecting his hand to pass through you, and when it doesn’t, he apologizes profusely. You want so badly to hug him, to pull him closer, to… but he never allows it. And then it happens all over again when he drinks too much. The self-deprecation never ends.

You realize an awkward amount of time has passed since he last spoke, and he’s turned his attention back towards his perpetually refilling glass. You use his lack of awareness to scoot closer to him before he can move away, and his feathers puff up at the contact. His eyes are wide, muscles tense as his attention has now very obviously shifted to you.  
“Y/N—” he stutters, unsure of your intentions.  
“Julian,” his name comes out of you as natural as breathing. Your hands feel awkward resting in your lap, so you decide to reach over and gently pry the mug from his grasp, gliding it across the table. “Julian, let me help. Please. I want to.” 

“Help with what?” He plays clueless, and it reminds you of the man you once knew. Red hair flashes before your eyes, a glimpse of a flowing white shirt. You trace your hand across scars on his forearm, sorrow evident on your face.

“You… you rip your feathers out. And it leaves cuts. Your feet have glass shards in them and you don’t even realize it.” To be fair, you don’t realize the pain you’re in. Your legs go numb from sitting in the rigid wooden booth for eternity, your back hurts from slouching… but this place, it has a drug-like effect on the both of you. An IV of morphine directly into your veins at all times, keeping you calm and complacent. 

“What can you do about it?” He sneers, on the surface very much against the idea, but he longs for your touch. “You’re not the doctor.”

Your hand moves from his forearm, up his shoulder, and now across his chest. He shivers, and his cold demeanor falters, and you realize just how close your faces are. This realization is not lost on you as you close the gap, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. He doesn’t pull away, but you remember all the times he’s pushed away, so you voluntarily pull away this time in case he doesn’t want this.

“I’m sorry—I shouldn’t have—I know you don’t want—”  
“Y/N…” His eyes are still half lidded, but now a familiar blush dusts his cheeks to his ears, and you allow yourself to hope that maybe he doesn’t hate you. You know he doesn’t, really, but he’s never been one for affection ever since you found him.  
The longing look in his eyes gives you a different impression.  
You pull him in this time, your hand snaking to the back of his neck, and he’s into it. His lips haven’t changed. A half feathered arm wraps around your lower back, pulling you closer. His grip gets tighter and he pulls you onto his lap, straddling his hips. Your hands cup his face as his cup your ass-- how bold of him, now. It's instinct, left over from countless nights where you two had done this before. He seems to realize his talons are digging in slightly, and swiftly removes his hands, starting to stammer.

"I--" he begins to apologize, but you kiss him again, and put your hands over his own to guide them back to where they were. You move your hips slightly and roll against him, and he can't help the low moan that escapes his throat. Is this happening? He knows he shouldn't. He's a monster. 

He pulls away this time, and you let him speak.

"Do you want me?" His voice is quiet, apprehensive, slightly shaking. 

"I want you, Julian." You match the lust in his voice. He puts his hands under your legs and stands up with you, your legs instinctively wrapping around him, and he sets you on the (somehow magically clean) table in front of him. The lighting in the Hanged Raven shifts, darker than it was previously, but inviting. 

"Say it again."

"I want you... Ilya." The mention of his birth name unleashes the hunger he had been holding back for so long. He kisses you roughly, passionately, before moving from your lips to your jaw, from your jaw down your neck. He scrapes his teeth against your delicate skin, and you know it will leave a mark, but who else will see you besides him? He has the same train of thought, and that only encourages him further. You are his. And he wants to see evidence of that. 

You whisper praise as he moves further south, pulling down the already low neckline of your dress to expose your breasts. He gives your chest the same treatment as your neck, and your breathing becomes labored, your praise louder, now moaning as well. His hands roam your body, gliding up your sides, up to squeeze a breast in each hand. When he pulls his mouth and hands away, you open your mouth to complain, before you realize that he's no sliding up the bottom of your skirt, lowering himself until his mouth is planted on the inside of your thigh.

"May I?" He asks, his breath against your thigh giving you goosebumps. 

"Ilya-- don't you want me to--" you try to ask, don't you want me to take care of you? Isn't that what you offered? 

And despite all that time apart, Julian knows exactly what you were thinking.

"Y/N... I want you. But I don't want you to see me. Like this. I don't know... what I have. And I'd rather give you pleasure... if that's okay." He's always been a gentleman, and how can you say no to him with his mouth so close to where you want it? In fact, how can you say anything as he slides your underwear down your hips, and you adjust slightly so he can slide them down your legs, leaving you bare. He presses his tongue to your sex, and your breath hitches.

"Ilya, I want you," you moan, head tilting back, and he puts your legs over his shoulders, wrapping his arms around them, his hands ending up gripping your inner thigh as he buries his tongue in your cunt. The feathers on the sides of his head tickle, but that sensation is drowned by the feeling of his tongue inside you, and then it's gone and he's sucking on your clit. He unwraps an arm from your leg, his mouth moving back down to enter you again as he uses the pads of his fingers to rub your clit in circles. He's always been dangerous when he uses his mouth and his hands, and you grasp at his feathers, pulling them slightly to elicit a moan from him, which feels heavenly against you. He may not be able to finger you with the sharp edges of his talons, but he does so well with what he has. 

You can feel yourself getting close to the edge, and you're leveraging your hips to get his tongue deeper inside you, and to get his fingers right where you want them. He can tell you're close, and he is relentless, even more encourage when you tug at his feathers again. You don't have any time to warn him before you come, finishing against his face, muscles tensing up and releasing as a wave of pleasure surges over you. He slows his movements down until you've come down from your high, and he slowly rises, standing in between your legs. His figure looms over you and he cups your cheek with one hand, looking you in the eyes.

"I love you, Y/N. And I want to take care of you. It's all I've ever wanted.... it's why I did this. And I'm not going to fail you now."

"I love you too, Ilya." You pull him in for a kiss, wrapping your legs around him, trapping him against you. You don't ever want to let go.


End file.
